


Candy Crush

by ac_MaryAgnes



Category: The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types, Thor (Movies)
Genre: Candy Hearts, F/M, Mostly Fluff, Secret Admirer, Tony's a walnut, cannoli cupcakes, everyone will know before Steve, little angsty, mentions of Bucky Barnes - Freeform, mentions of Pepper Pots, weird/silly gifts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-20
Updated: 2015-03-04
Packaged: 2018-03-14 00:19:31
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 15
Words: 13,255
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3401507
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ac_MaryAgnes/pseuds/ac_MaryAgnes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Darcy had a crush on Captain America. And one on Steve Rogers. And no, there was no way she'd ever be able to actually talk to him. Dude was like Mary Poppins - practically perfect in every way. And Darcy... well, she was also practically perfect, but when it came to actually talking to someone she was attracted to... not so much. But that didn't mean she couldn't say anything at all.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Bear Hug

**Author's Note:**

  * For [PinkPandorafrog](https://archiveofourown.org/users/PinkPandorafrog/gifts).



> This is a valentine for pinkpandoracorn, who asked for kisses in the rain, candy hearts and happy endings. This isn't completely finished yet - there will be 15 chapters! - but I wanted you to know it's coming along. I hope you had a wonderful holiday!

Steve never thought much about Valentine’s Day. Before the war, there hadn’t been much opportunity no matter how hard Bucky had tried. During the war, there were so many other, more important things to focus on. The only real thought of romantic love he’d had, had been Peggy. Even that had nothing to do with Ol’ St Val – though you could bet everything you had that Peggy deserved all the hearts and flowers a guy could get his hands on. Then after the war… well, for Steve, the war never really ended, did it? It just changed a bit. Well, okay – it changed a hellovalot, but Steve’s role in it didn’t.

So he was surprised – _really_ kinda surprised – when he got the first candy heart a few days after New Years. It was a little white sugar heart with pink letters spelling out ‘Bear Hug.’ Next to it was a small stuffed bear holding a red satin heart. Steve frowned at his gifts and poked his head out of his office. No one else had candy hearts or small toys on their desks – none that he could see anyway – and it instantly made Steve suspicious.

Sam told him he was over reacting. “It’s a toy and a piece of candy, man,” he said, not really seeing what the big deal was. “You eat the candy and make sure no one stashed a recording device in the toy.”

Steve frowned, crossing his arms.

Sam rolled his eyes – Steve was cool and funny, but sometimes he was a crotchety old man. “Look, it’s a Valentine’s Day thing. A little early, but… it means you’ve got an admirer, Cap. It’s no big thing.”

So Steve put it out of his mind. It really wasn’t that much of an issue – just a wintergreen flavoured candy heart and a harmless stuffed bear (free of any bugs). It was probably just someone being nice.

* * *

Darcy had a crush on Captain America. And one on Steve Rogers – yes, they were two separate people. Sort of. The Captain was full of gravitas and heroism, fighting bad guys and aliens; a tragically heroic figure firmly on the side of the angels. Plus he had a shoulder-to-hip ratio of a Dorito and an ass you could bounce quarters off of – neither of which were small things in Darcy’s book.

And then there was Steve Rogers. A progressive thinking sassy-pants artist who always looked a little sad when he didn’t think anyone was watching. Steve had the courage and determination of ten men and he didn’t take crap from anybody. Darcy heard he was a bit of a troll, too, which she had a healthy respect for. And yeah, she totally hacked into the security footage in the gym room when she knew he was working out. No pain, all gain – and if you asked Darcy, no shame.

Darcy wasn’t the only person to sigh over the man – Steve or the Cap. Agent Hill did, though she’d kill you for even thinking it. And there were quite a few hearts aflutter in Accounting over his baby blues. Darcy knew she was just one of many, and she wasn’t looking to stand out to gain his affection or anything. As dreamy as both sides of the man were, there was zero chance of them ever actually getting together. They ran in totally separate circles – Darcy in Star!Science Land (aka Stark’s Astrophysics Lab), and Steve with real life superheroes, because he was a real life superhero. Their only real potential over-lap was Thor, who liked to hang out in the lab and have Jane teach him what she was working on. Neither Steve nor the Cap ever really came down that way. She doubted he even knew where the Astrophysics Lab was. There was no real chance of them ever meeting, really.

But Valentine’s Day was right around the corner and she wanted to do something nice for him. Plus, she’d heard his office was like, super dull – just a desk, a chair and a window. Total snoozeville. That was a big ‘no bueno’ in Darcy-land.

The candy hearts had given her the idea. They were great because A) they were awesome and kind of addictive – everyone loved candy hearts. They were like the candy corn of VD. And B) just because it would be weird to say things to Steve’s face didn’t mean she couldn’t say anything at all. And then she’d seen the stupid and adorable little bear and that was it. She’d give him the bear and a candy heart, eat the rest of the box, and that would be the end of it.

Really.


	2. Honey Bun

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> These chapters are really short - more drabbles, really, than actual chapters. I hope that's okay.

A few days later, Steve found the next candy heart with breakfast. A little yellow heart with the slightly smeared, garishly pink letters spelling out ‘Honey Bun’ accompanied a cup of coffee and an iced cinnamon roll like the ones from the break room. Or rather, the ones that _had_ been in the break room but were all eaten by the time Steve found out about them. Yet here one was, saved just for him. There were some packets of sugar and a little thing of creamer for the coffee, which was also nice. Natasha was passing by as Steve stared at the heart.

“Secret admirer strikes again,” she commented, leaning against the door jam. There was a smirk on her face that said she knew something. Of course, Natasha always looked like she knew something, but Steve was getting pretty good at reading her. 

“Who is it and why are they leaving me things?” Steve demanded.

Natasha just shook her head. “Enjoy your breakfast, honey bun.”

The heart tasted a little bit like bananas, and the cinnamon roll could arguably have been homemade. The coffee was pretty good, too.

* * *

Darcy didn’t want to make it weird. Really. It was meant to be a one-time thing. She bought a few boxes of candy hearts because _hello_ – they’re candy hearts, aka _amazeballs_. The bear was cute and stupid but mostly cute.

But last night, she couldn’t sleep and she really wanted a cinnamon roll so she made a batch. And brought them in this morning because why the hell not? But while she was making the icing for them (because you can’t have homemade cinnamon rolls without real icing) Darcy thought that… well… maybe she could leave something for Steve again. Just to make sure he got one and started off the day right: with a sugar rush and caffeine high like the rest of the country.

Darcy was pretty sure someone saw her leave everything in Steve’s office, though. She was 100% sure that certain someone’s name rhymed with ‘Ratasha Nomanov.’ Clint might have been her homie, but the Black Widow scared the living shit out of Darcy for all of the most obvious reasons. And she really, really hoped the Super Spysassin didn’t tell Steve who had left him the food. Not that Steve knew who Darcy was, but Natasha knew who everyone was and that would make this whole thing weird if she ratted Darcy out.

And Darcy didn’t want to make it weird… more weird.


	3. #1 FAN

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Everyone who has given kudos and/or commented on this so far is amazeballs and I wish I could give you all candy hearts. Take this chapter instead.
> 
> This one was actually my favourite one to write so far.

A few days later, Steve was swinging by his office to grab something for a tactical team meeting and saw that his secret admirer had struck again. On Steve's keyboard – the letter ‘R’ – was a small blue candy heart that read ‘#1 FAN.’ Tied to his computer monitor with a sparkly red ribbon was an action figure that looked surprisingly like Agent Coulson. The toy wore a little blue ball cap with a white star on it and held an American flag pennant that might have been a sticker at one point. The figure's movable joints were manipulated to look like it was about to do a high kick, like the USO girls did while Steve had been on tour. The pose looked ridiculous paired with the toy's serious face. 

Seeing it there startled a laugh out of him. As he untied the figure, he realised his admirer might know him better than just any old gal in the Travel Office. Who ever it was certainly had a strange sense of humour, but he kinda liked it. Clint popped his head in while Steve set the toy in a new pose next to his mouse.

“You going to the – oh hey. I was wondering what she was going to do with the other one.”

“You know who’s been leaving me things?” Steve accused, his head coming up sharp. Clint quickly took stock of the situation and cleared any expression off his face.

“I don’t know anything,” he answered. “You could write a book about how many things I don’t know, especially that thing.”

“Clint-“

“We have a meeting!” the archer cut him off. “We’re gonna be late! Lets get the lead out, lardass.”

* * *

The action figure was too good to pass up. Less than $5 bucks at a massive indoor flea market, it was almost creepy how much the James Bond figurine looked like Agent Coulson. She bought two – she was _totally_ keeping one and sending pictures of it to the man himself. The other would get a bit of a special treatment and go to someone who would probably also get a kick out of it. Only problem? Clint was with her as security, and because he was her homie who would enjoy going through flea markets like this.

“That’s weird,” he mumbled, snatching up a child’s bird mask and slipping it over his face.

“Are you kidding?” she countered, picking the two replica toys up. “They’re perfect. And you’re one to talk, bird brain.”

“Caw-caw, motherfucker.” She saw him slip a couple bills out of his pocket and Darcy had a feeling Clint would be wearing that mask for the rest of their trip. She couldn't blame him - it's was kinda boss. 

So Clint knew Darcy had two action figures, but didn’t mention anything beyond that. Neither did he say anything when Darcy picked up a 4th of July scrapbook sticker packet or rifled through a bin of Ken doll accessories.

However, the evening after Darcy had tied Steve’s most recent gift to his computer monitor, Clint climbed in through her apartment window and plopped himself on her couch. This wasn't unusual - watching _Dog Cops_ was a weekly ritual for them. During a commercial break (‘cause it was a universal law that you only talk during commercials while watching _Dog Cops_ ), he turned to her.

“He liked it but you’re a doofus.”

“I know,” she whined, not even bothering to pretend ignorance. They were homies, after all.

“You should just talk to him.”

“I can’t!”

“You’re a doofus. Got any beer?”

So Darcy got them both a beer, then _Dog Cops_ came back on and they dropped it.


	4. You Rock

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have 8 of these things written so far and a solid plan for the other 7. Also, shout-out to thescottishwrite for being such an amazing cheerleader, and neverending-shenanigans for just being lovely in general. 
> 
> And no flowers for PinkPandoracorn, as requested. Have a paperweight instead.

It had been a very long day. Actually, it had been a long series of days – a mission that was supposed to be an easy in-and-out job had gone on four days too long. All Steve wanted was a shower and a bed. Typically, he’d go to his own place – a little brownstone loft that didn’t look like the American Flag had thrown up on it – rather than stay at his guest suite in Avenger’s Tower. But he was too tired for the subway and didn’t want to deal with arranging for a cab or a driver. So he’d have to deal with Tony’s less-than-appreciated decorating joke.

He was so tired he nearly ran into the person getting off the elevator as he was getting on. He mumbled an apology – or something like an apology – at the dark head and got an impression of lips and glasses when she turned to wave him off. The doors closed and Steve sagged against the metal walls. When the lift dinged, he opened his eyes and pushed himself forward. But before he opened the apartment door, he stopped.

A little white gift bag hung from his doorknob, sprouting red tissue paper. Very carefully nestled on top was a green candy heart telling him ‘You Rock.’ Popping the candy into his mouth (lime this time), he opened up the bag and grinned.

"Oh wow."

A stone about the size of his palm fell into his hand. He didn’t know what kind of rock it was, but it was smooth and polished. It was dark blue and had tiny reflective bits in it, giving the impression of stars in the night sky. Steve felt like he had the whole galaxy in the palm of his hand.

He still wanted a shower and a bed, but that… that was a nice surprise to come home to.

* * *

Jane’s birthday wasn’t until June. Thor didn’t seem to care, though, and insisted that Darcy help him find the most perfect gift for his beloved. The guy would give her the sun, the moon and all the stars in every galaxy known and unknown if he could. It was incredibly sweet.

He attempted to guide them into a flower shop first, but Darcy stopped him. “Sorry big guy – that’s a no-no zone for Darcy.”

“And why is that?” he asked, concerned that perhaps the shopkeeper would not permit her entry, and that was why Darcy would not go in.

“Well, I’m allergic to flowers for one. Things make me puff up and sneeze something fierce. And besides that…” Darcy shook her head, scrunching her nose in distaste. “Jane likes flowers just fine, but I think there are better options. If you want help picking out those things, you’ll have to find someone else.”

Thor got a sly look on his face, baring a strange resemblance to his brother. “Is that why young Steven hasn’t received such tokens yet?”

Darcy sputtered, shocked that Thor knew about what she’d done for Steve much less bring it up. Thor was like the super cool cousin she hadn’t known she’d wanted – she cared about his opinion and didn’t want to look like a fool in front of him, even though she knew he’d probably accept her lumps and all anyway.

“You aren’t as good at being sneaky as you think, my friend,” he told her with a chuckle. His large hand came down to warm her shoulder even through her layers of coat and sweater. “My Jane and I have discussed at length the way you have mooned over my shield brother.”

“Thor, you can’t-”

“I’ll say nothing,” he promised gently, guiding Darcy passed the slower shop to the _Fire & Ice_ boutique a few doors down. “And neither will the fair Jane. Nor will we intervene unless you ask. Your happiness is important to us, Darcy, and any interference on our part might embarrass you unnecessarily. You know your path. We will be here to support you wherever it leads.”

Darcy blinked. She hadn’t really been expecting something so… poignant. “That’s… very kind of you, big guy. Thanks.”

They browsed the boutique a while until a paperweight caught both of their attention. It was dark blue aventurine glass, flecks of copper catching the light like stars. It wasn’t very large, though everything tended to look small in Thor’s hands. It was exactly the sort of material Thor was thinking of. Jane was more important than a paperweight, though, so Thor commandeered a store clerk to discuss options for a better gift.

As he conferred with the woman to commission a pendant and earring set for Jane out of the glass, Darcy took the paperweight up to the cashier. She knew someone else who might think it was as amazing as Jane would.

Later, as she slid to the floor around the corner from the private elevator, she really hoped the $30 bucks she shelled out for the rock had been worth it. As much as she was beginning realise exactly how much she liked Steve – like, a little more than a harmless crush (or maybe a lot more, depending on how she scaled things) – Darcy really, _really_ wasn’t interested in getting found out. Somehow, that seemed _so_ much harder than just leaving him stuff.


	5. Yum Yum

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I kinda want to get this all written and posted by the end of the month. That's the goal I'm shooting for. 
> 
> Clint is also quickly becoming my favourite character to write. I mean, Steve and Darcy all the way, but Clint is swiftly gaining ground.

It was over a week before Steve saw any more surprises left by his secret admirer. Mostly because he’d been in DC following a lead on Bucky and had been asked to run through some drills in Annapolis with the cadets, but it still bummed a little not to find anything when he returned to New York. Steve actually figured his secret admirer was done until he came into his office the next afternoon and saw a ceiling tile slide back into place.

“Barton,” he muttered, rushing over to bang on the AC grate. “Clint! I know that was you!”

Grumbling when it was obvious Clint had slithered off, Steve turned back to his desk. This gift was much less like the others – it was more like a joke, really. And honestly, it was an okay joke. People® Magazine had done a small spread while Steve had been in DC and at West Pointe, focusing less on _what_ he was doing and more on what he _looked_ like while doing it. His secret admirer had pasted the better pictures together and put a boarder around them – orange hearts that said ‘Yum Yum.’ The centerpiece of the collage was an enlarged photo of his butt, and the only way a person could tell it was Steve's rather than any other officer's was that it was in his tactical uniform.

It was almost exactly something like what Clint would do, which was not comforting at all. Steve pulled out his cell phone and called Natasha.

“Please tell me Clint isn’t my secret admirer.”

“Not even a ‘hello’ first?”

“Natasha-”

“It’s not Clint,” she soothed. “He’s doing someone a favour. You’re not the only one who has to leave New York occasionally.”

Steve paused. “Is that a clue?”

Natasha laughed, a low, husky sound meant to draw you in before she chewed you up and spat you back out. “That’s me assuring you that Clint isn’t the person leaving you things. He’s merely in cahoots with them.”

“Cahoots?”

“Can't hang with the lingo, old man?" Natasha laughed again. "It’s just fun to say. Shut up.”

* * *

“Clint, you’re my homefry and you know I’d never ask you to do anything illegal.”

“… But?”

“But I’m going to California for a Science!thing with Jane and I need you to break into Steve’s office. He gets back from DC tomorrow. You’re gonna have to put this on his desk somewhere.”

Clint blinked at the collage Darcy shoved into his hands. “You can’t do it before you leave?”

“Would I be asking you to do it otherwise?”

Clint let out a long and heavy sigh. “Fine.” They were homefries, after all.

“Just don’t tell anyone.”

“The only person I would tell already knows.”

Darcy thought for a second, then nodded. “Yeah, I thought so. Your girlfriend is kinda sneaky, Clint.”

“Hey-“ He shoved a finger in her face, but his eyes were laughing at her. “Natasha is all woman. She’s my partner in every way magical, beautiful and deadly.”

“Okay Clint.”

“She could kill you with a paper clip.”

“I always figured.”

“She knows where you sleep.”

“I figured that, too, but it’s super creepy that you confirmed it for me so I’m ending this conversation.”

“Good. _Dog Cops_ is back on anyway.”


	6. Home Run

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 put up a fuss yesterday - wouldn't let me post. The turd. Anyway, here's the chapter I was going to post yesterday. And for the nerds at home, the number in Darcy's email address is the date she was given to us: April 27th (in the US, anyway). I've decided that's her birthday.
> 
> Also, thank you so much for everyone who has commented/kudo'd this work. It's really nice and I appreciate it.

Captain America got mail. He got a lot of mail from everyone all over the world. He got mail asking him to attend charities and events, to make donations and be a spokesperson for causes of all sorts. He got letters from children in hospitals and classrooms and one-offs asking he knew Superman or Wonder Woman or the toothfairy. He received what could generously be termed ‘love letters’ containing everything from heartfelt poetry to used undergarments. He got death threats from fanatics and requests from scientists to study his biochemistry. There was an entire department in Avengers Tower dedicated to sorting and responding to Captain America’s mail.

Steve Rogers didn’t get mail. Well, he got bills and junk like everyone else on his block, but other than that? Steve hadn’t received any personal letters or packages since he’d joined the war effort. It would be nice to think that the descendants of the men Steve had served with – those crazy Howling Commandos – would be interested in making a connection. But the ones who actually knew what their grandfathers and great-grandfathers _really_ did in the war were busy continuing their legacy. There was no time to take pen to page when a person was busy hunting Hydra. Honestly, Steve preferred it that way – he would rather they fight like their forefathers than ask him questions about them. Some things Steve didn’t know he’d ever be able to talk about, and his brothers from that time were one of them. Not to the families of those men, not even to Sam – though the VA worker certainly tried.

So Steve got no mail. Except from his secret admirer. Who, according to the postage on the smallish courier tube, was in California right now. Still no real clue as to who sent it though – the return address was Steve’s suite in Avengers Tower. Steve had to laugh at that. Whoever this girl was, she was smart.

He opened the small tube and shook the contents out onto his kitchen table. A little plastic bag held a candy heart – a pink one reading ‘Home Run’. A miniature foam baseball bat with the Dodgers logo rolled out next to it. Steve’s eyes widened in surprise. Not everyone knew he was a baseball fan, and those who did erroneously presumed he rooted for the Yankees. Only the high-level SHIELD agents knew about his Dodgers affiliation, even after the team’s much-lamented move across the country.

 _Then again,_ Steve thought, _if she knows about Coulson, I guess she might know about the Dodgers, too._

There was also a small, folded piece of paper. Seems his admirer had a little more to say than usual.

 _Heard you might be missing your team. Sorry they moved on you.  
_ _-Me_

The script was round and loopy, and written in purple ink. It made Steve smile, though he wouldn’t be able to tell you why.

* * *

 

_From: dontbeanidiot.itsencrypted@youdumbass.gov_   
_To: D.Lewis427@StarkIndusNY.org_   
_Subject: Hi_   
_Hey D. Heard about your thing. Figured you could use a hand. His team is the Dodgers, since you’re already in LA. Also, see the following attachments._

One was a .jpg – a close up of Real Coulson making that constipated face that meant he was about to yell at someone.

The other was a triple-encrypted .rtf – Steve Rogers’ home address.

“Oh, you perfect, sneaky angel,” Darcy mumbled, jotting the address on a sticky and tucking it in her pocket. She took a snapshot of Action Coulson, who was reclining on her hotel windowsill in obnoxiously patterned Ken doll swim trunks (over his suit, of course), and sent it to her friend in a text with a quick reply.

**_KTHX SKYE BAI_ **   
**_< 3 BIG D_ **

“Jane!” Darcy called, shoving her feet into her Chucks and grabbing her purse and sunglasses. “Put your shoes on. It’s time for outside.”

“Darcy-“

“Nope.” She shouldered the connecting door open and started the process of manhandling her scientist out the door. “You’ve been prepping for this lecture since December. You have your lesson plan approved and your notes are beautiful and colour coded – we worked on them all night. Now, it’s 80 degrees outside and sunny. In January! We’re going out for lunch – and I mean tacos with guac and all the wonderful things – and we’re not going to talk about stars or photons or messages from the Great Beyond. You’re going to relax, mi amigo, so move that tuchus and let's go.”

And if they happened to stop at a kitschy fan-stand and the post office, well… whatever.


	7. Get My Drift?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think it's pretty widely known by now that Clint Barton is deaf in Marvel Comic Canon.

There was absolutely nothing to do. No paperwork, no meetings, no missions… nothing. And Steve was bored out of his skull. On days like this, he usually took off early and spent the day in a café or the library or wandered his way over to the Met. But today… Steve was a little listless today. There was nothing to do. He haunted the Tower halls until lunchtime when Sam finally caught him.

“It’s Chili Day in Café 6, man,” the Falcon coaxed. “C’mon – you love Café 6 Chili.”

“Café 6 Chili is the best chili,” Clint confirmed as he sailed past them to the elevator.

So Steve joined them to the café on level 6, which was packed. Because it was Chili Day. And to be honest, it was pretty good – Steve didn’t know what they added to it and Tony sure as hell couldn’t get the recipe from the head chef.

“I have a source who ways it’s something from Thor’s world,” Clint muttered, scanning over the throngs of people like he was searching for something in particular. He probably wasn’t; Clint always looked up first.

“A source?” Sam asked, incredulous.

“She tells me things ‘cause we’re homies.”

“… You’re homies?”

“We watch _Dog Cops_ together.”

Steve paused; Natasha hated that show. “Natasha watches _Dog Cops_?”

Clint sneered – an unusual expression on his typically neutral face. “Natasha’s not my homie. She’s my partner in all ways magical, beautiful and deadly.”

“We know, Clint,” Steve rolled his eyes. He’d heard this spiel before.

“She could kill your with a refrigerator magnet.”

“It wouldn’t surprise me.”

“She knows – oh hey.” Clint broke off at the sight of a woman waving frantically in their direction. The top of her dark head occasionally hopped up over the crowd. Clint lifted his hands and made a series of hand gestures. The woman made some back, light glinting off her dark coloured nail polish. The two went back and forth for a moment – Clint gesturing, the woman’s hands responding in kind – while Sam and Steve looked at each other, clueless.

Finally, Clint made a disgusted sound and shook his head, hands coming back down to his sides.

“Woman needs to grow a pair,” he muttered darkly.

“What?”

Clint flapped his hand at Sam's question. “Nothing. After lunch, you two want to go to the range and shoot things?”

Steve thought for a moment then shrugged, Sam nodding along. Neither of them really had anything else to do today. “Sure.”

It was almost quitting time when Steve got back to his office. But there on his desk was a new gift from his admirer – a blue heart with the message ‘Get My Drift?’ accompanied a snow globe of an airplane flying into New York. Steve laughed. The plane looked a bit like a bomber from the 40s – the kind of plane Steve had jumped out of more than once with his boys.

“Yeah, yeah,” he mumbled under his breath, giving the present a shake to watch the snow fly. “I think I’m starting to get your drift, whoever you are.”

* * *

‘Clint,’ Darcy signed, waving a bit because she knew he always looked up first. ‘Clint! Clint-Clint-Clint-Clint-Cli-‘

Clint’s hands appeared above the crowd. ‘Hi. What?’

‘You have Steve.’

‘And?’

‘I need a favour.’

‘No. No favours.’

‘Please.’

‘Be a big girl.’

‘Just one favour.’

‘No.’

‘I bought Flying Dog beer for _Dog Cops_.’

‘… You have zero shame.’ _Dog Cops_ and beer was sacred, and using it for leverage was akin to blackmail.

‘Keep Steve with you – away from his office.’

‘That’s it?’

‘2 cases of Flying Dog.’ Which meant she’d let him take the second case home – she always did when she bought two. And Natasha liked Flying Dog, which was major brownie points for Clint whenever he brought some home.

‘… Fine. No more after this.’

‘Clint, you are the tastiest homefry in the history of skillets.’

‘Whatever.’

Darcy picked up her order of chili and dashed (carefully – didn’t want to spill) back to the labs.

“Jane!” she called, backing into the lab door to swing it open. “One of these is yours. I have a quick thing, but I want you to at least start eating it before I get back.”

The astrophysicist made a vague noise of understanding, her head buried in her notes. They'd gotten a late flight into LaGuardia the previous night and Jane had a lot to catch up on.

“I will make sure she eats,” Thor promised, pulling two of the containers of chili and a pair of spoons towards him. Darcy flashed him a big smile – she could always count on Thor.

“Thanks big guy.” She grabbed her bag and jogged back to the elevator.

Airport gifts might be cheesy and touristy, and often way too expensive, but this one called to her. She just hoped Steve liked it, too.


	8. Home Sick

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Every time I open my email and see notifications from you guys commenting and giving kudos, it's... well, it's better than Valentine's Day. You guys are wonderful and I'm really glad you like this. 
> 
> This chapter might suck a little, though. It gave me some problems and it doesn't sit as well as I'd like. Sorry. But we now have a side plot, so that's nice. Yay side plot!

Steve’s first real clue as to who his secret admirer could be came when he wasn’t really paying attention. He’d kick himself for it later. Granted, he wasn’t paying attention because he’d just been given confirmation that a team in Colorado had eyes on Bucky. He’d been spotted in Colorado Springs near Peterson AFB – very close to where Col. Phillips’ remaining family were stationed. According to intell, Bucky hadn’t made any moves to make contact with the Phillips’, but SHIELD had picked up signs indicating that Bucky was watching them. Steve hoped it meant his friend was starting to remember.

So he wasn’t really paying all that much attention when he almost flattened a man waiting in front of his office door.

“Can I help you?”

“Uh,” the man adjusted his tie and fiddled with the lapels of his long white coat. “I’m… uh… d-Doctor… Dr Emmerich, Captain. I have, um…”

“I don’t mean to be rude,” Steve interrupted, a little short on temper because he wanted to re-read the report from Colorado, “but I do have business to get to.”

The white haired Dr Emmerich looked at Steve for a moment, eyes wide like he wasn’t sure exactly what he was supposed to do. Then with a decisive nod, the man plunged a hand into one of the outer pockets of his coat and brought out a slightly bulging card envelope. He shoved it at Steve’s hands and quickly backed away.

“I was told to give this to you. Good bye.”

Task completed, Dr Emmerich rushed off, supposedly back to wherever it was he belonged. Steve shook his head, shuffling the envelope behind the packet of papers and folders he was holding. He didn’t think of it again until he was packing up to go home.

The white envelope stuck out from under some other reports he’d gotten throughout the day. Slipping it from the pile, Steve saw the handwriting on the front and sighed.

“Terrible timing,” he muttered, recognizing the loopy, rounded letters as his secret admirer's writing. Inside the envelope was a greeting card – a small, potted cactus wrapped in a blanket with a cold pack stuck on it’s top at a jaunty angle. There was a typed message inside (“Take Care, Prickly Pear”) along with a handwritten one in orange ink.

_Obviously, it’s me who’s sick, not you – you superer serumed man, you. If my brains weren’t coming out of my ears, I’d make a pun. Maybe about cactusus... Cacti? Whatever. Be glad you can’t catch the plague. Anyway, if you do end up feeling bad, I hope the card is cute enough to life your spirits._   
_\- Me_   
_PS – ignore who ever drops this off. Science!peeps mean well, but they aren’t good at talking to live people._

A small, orange candy heart accompanied it, reading ‘Home Sick.’

“Shit.” Steve sat back down in his chair, staring at the message again. “JARVIS?”

“Yes, Captain?”

“Who was it who dropped this off for me earlier?”

JARVIS paused. “That was Dr Alrich Emmerich, Captain. He works in the Science Department, specialising in the research and small-scale testing of wormhole development.”

"Right," Steve mumbled. That meant nothing to him. He popped the candy heart in his mouth, and got out a pad of sticky notes as he crunched on it. Grabbing a pen, he began a small list.

  1. Bakes 
  2. Knows about Coulson 
  3. Knows about Dodgers, bombers 
  4. Has access to personal info > home address, Avengers suite
  5. Friends with Clint, Natasha knows 
  6. Connection to Science? > Wormholes… Space? 
  7. Went to CA 
  8. Sick > from the trip?



Steve studied his list for a moment before locking it in his drawer. The list didn’t match anyone he could think of and with the Bucky situation, now really wasn’t the time to start a new manhunt. Steve grabbed his things again and tucked the cactus card into his inner jacket pocket. He wished he could get this girl something to make her feel better - he hadn't been sick for a while, but for 25 straight years Steve knew exactly how much it stunk being laid up like that. There just wasn't anything he could do as it was, though, so he’d think about it more tomorrow.

* * *

A pale, shaking hand reached out from under a pile of blankets and grabbed the phone that rapped out Beasty Boys from the bedside table. Darcy didn’t have to open her eyes to see who it was before answering.

“I’m dying.”

“What?” Jane’s voice came through the speaker, concerned.

“This is my Last Will and Testament. I hope you’re recording this, Jane. I, Darcy Anne Lewis, being of –“

“Darcy, are you sick? It’s 9 AM but you’re not here. No one’s seen you, so I got worried.”

A shiver wracked Darcy for a moment. Her skin ached and her joints hurt. “I’m so glad to have such a kind hearted friend think of me during my final hours.”

“How did you get sick, Darcy?” Jane knew to ignore the dramatics – Darcy always got like this when she was ill. “Everyone here has been fine, unless you caught something on the bus or the subway? Or… you didn’t take the Airborne I gave you for the California trip, did you?”

Darcy hated Airborne. No matter what flavour, it always tasted like ass to her. “Don’t harp on the dead girl, Jane.”

“Oh, you’re not dead,” Jane huffed on the other end of the line. “I’ll stop by around lunch time and I’ll bring some of my mom’s Sick Soup.” Mrs Foster’s Sick Soup was regular chicken soup with rice and veggies. It came from a can, but it always seemed to taste better when Jane or her mom made it.

Darcy gave a tired smile and burrowed deeper into her bed. “You’re a star, Jane. Just like all that magic astrology you physic.”

Jane laughed. “That’s not what it is at all, Darcy, but thanks. I’ll see you later, okay? Get some rest.”

“Yeah.” Darcy hung up, really glad she had such a great friend. She jerked violently as cold shivers ran through her again and curled tighter under her blankets. She wished she had someone to curl up with her – a big, muscley someone who was super-serumed against getting sick.

Maybe she’d make Steve a card. She’s give it to Jane to pass along. Yeah… a Get Well card for Steve, even though he wasn’t the one with the plague. If there was anyone who knew about being sick, it’d be Stevie Rogers.


	9. My Treat

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AO3 keeps deleting how many chapters this thing is going to be. Like it's doubting me and my ability to complete 15 chapters of fluffy, Candy Crush goodness. The turd. 
> 
> However, this brings up a point. Chapter 10 is being a nüggin. It's Steve's fault - he's having a lot of feelings and it's making him constipated. All that subplot I told you about before. Poor lil guy.

The next candy heart didn’t come with a note, and Steve tried to tell himself he wasn’t disappointed. Two cupcakes sat on a little blue plate, wrapped in blue paper and topped with white and red icing. On the napkin next to them was a little blue heart proclaiming ‘My Treat’. It had been a week since he’d gotten the Get Well card, so he assumed his secret admirer was feeling better by now.

“Are those cannoli cupcakes?”

Steve looked up and brought the plate closer to his chest, turning a little as if to shield them from Clint’s hawk-eyes. “I don’t know, but they’re mine.”

“Looks like you got two.” Clint jerked his chin towards the plate, eyes never leaving their target. “Sharing is caring, Cap.”

“What are we sharing?” Tony asked peeking his head around the open office door. “Oh, cupcakes?”

“No no,” Clint corrected. “Those aren’t just _cupcakes_. Unless I’m mistaken – and I’m not – those are the ever coveted _cannoli-cake_ cupcakes.”

Tony squinted at them. “How can you tell? They just look like regular iced cupcakes.”

The archer shook his head. “I know things.”

“I thought you said you know _nothing_ ,” Steve said, sounding a little defensive and turning a little bit more so Tony would stop looking at his treats. “I thought I could fill a book with all the things you don’t know.”

Clint blinked slowly, as if keeping his eyes open until the last possible second would ensure the cupcakes would still be there when he looked back. “Some things I know,” he conceded. “Cannoli cupcakes are one of those things.”

“Well you can’t have these,” Steve told them, turning all the way around now so the cupcakes were completely hidden. “These ones were left for me.”

Clint looked at Steve’s desk and saw the candy heart. “Oh. Well, then I know who made them and I’ll just get some later. Come on, Tony,” Clint grabbed the back of the millionaire’s shirtsleeve. “I’ve got a funny thing to tell you. You’re gonna love it.”

Steve had to bite his lip as the guys walked away. He really wanted to call Clint back and make him tell who Steve’s secret admirer was. But he thought of the list in his desk drawer and thought that maybe, waiting the girl out would be more fun. At least he had these really awesome cupcakes.

* * *

“We have Thai food!” Jane announced as she and Thor came through Darcy’s apartment door. Both of their hands were full of white take-out bags.

“Holy shit,” Darcy gasped, pressing against the wall to let them pass before closing the door behind them. “You guys buy the whole menu?”

Thor shrugged and grinned at her. “I have a great fondness for Thai Food Nights.”

“Yeah, I can tell.” Darcy shook her head and flapped a hand toward the island divider between the kitchen and living room. There was already a large serving plate set out, covered with cupcakes for later. “Just set it all down over there.”

“Cannoli cupcakes!” Jane cheered. “I’ve been waiting for you to make these again.”

“Are they anything like the small confections we’ve had previously?” Thor asked, starting to remove packages from the white bags. He'd taken Jane to an Italian bakery on one of their more recent courting excursions - his beloved Jane called them 'dates' - and he had found the small cream-filled pastry wraps to be most excellent. 

“They’re yellow cake cupcakes,” Darcy explained as she cleared away the empty bags. “But the icing on top is cannoli cream with chocolate chips and almonds, and they’re hollowed out in the middle for more of that good stuff on the inside.”

“They’re pretty much heaven,” Clint said as he climbed in through the fire escape. Natasha deftly leapt through after him and Darcy felt her blood pressure spike. “ _Somebody_ made them and didn’t tell me, even after she told me I was the tastiest homefry in the entire history of skillets. I had to learn about them from a certain secret someone. Oh hey, Thai.”

“Certain secret _super-serumed_ someone,” Natasha cooed, grinning. She waltzed around the couch and slid on one of Darcy’s barstools next to Clint like she’d done it a thousand times before. Darcy said nothing, only turned to grab some plates from the cupboard as her face reddened.

“You gave one to Steve?” asked Jane. She thought the whole ‘secret admirer’ thing was pretty sweet, even if Darcy would be better off just talking to the guy.

“I made a double batch and left him two.” There was no use lying – everyone already knew so making a cover story or trying to play it off would just look dumb. “I was going to make them anyway for Thai Food Night, but I just thought…” She trailed off with a shrug and pulled out a drawer for silverware.

“He liked them a lot,” Natasha told her. She thought Darcy’s bashfulness was cute. Honestly, she liked Darcy – the brunette was generous and funny and kept Clint entertained when he annoyed Natasha. The recon she’d done so far showed that Darcy would be a fairly good match for Steve, so Natasha figured she’d might as well start being friends with the girl now and save time having to get to know her later.

“Of course he enjoyed them!” Thor declared. “Darcy has such magic in the kitchen, it would be impossible for anyone to do otherwise. And if these little cakes are anything like the folded desserts, I very much look forward to trying one myself.”

“After dinner,” Jane told him, pausing her task of dishing out pad thai to hold up a finger. “Dinner first, then dessert.”

“Aw man,” Clint groaned and pouted a little as he fiddled with one of the take out containers. “Got any red curry?”

Darcy sighed. It was a good thing Thor bought so much. 


	10. Just Breathe

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So subplot is apparently code word for angst and over use of the italics function. Sorry. 
> 
> Also, shoutouts to my cheerleader/betamax thescottishwrite for being awesome. And love for my brainfriend neverending-shenanigans, 'cause she's also awesome. Last but not least, pinkpandoracorn for giving me this kickass prompt. Only 5 more chapters to go, guys.

Steven could hardly see straight, he was so incredibly furious. He stormed through the hallways and stairwells aching for a fight, for someone to punch and who could _hit back_. He wanted a backstreet brawl, a fight that was hard and dirty, but the only person who could give him that without risking anyone else’s life was off-world. So he fumed, impotent rage crawling under his skin as Tony’s words rang in his ears.

 _“That man – that_ thing _– isn’t coming here! I don’t care_ who _he used to be. He could’ve been the Pope and it still wouldn’t make a shit of difference! The Winter Solider isn’t setting one foot in this tower.”_

_“Tony-“_

_“No! This is_ my _tower; this is_ my _home and_ my _place of business. People work here –_ my _people, people who will be in danger the second that thing puts even a_ toe _through the door! You want to ‘save’ him? Then take him to your own fucking brownstone, Captain. He’s_ not _welcome here.”_

The whole argument played over and over in Steve’s mind as he prowled around the Tower, not really paying attention where he was going. He was practically breathing fire by the time his mind caught up with him.

Looking around, Steve found himself in the Avengers Common Area – all glass, chrome and hidden light fixtures. On the low table in the middle, along with the usual mag-rags and newspapers, sat an electric kettle and a stoneware mug. The mug was hand glazed blue and had a brown grid pattern on it. The handle was big enough that he’d be able to fit his whole hand through it. A folded piece of paper was propped carefully in front of it baring his name in familiar loopy handwriting. Steve took a careful breath and picked the note up.

_Tony can be an asshat. He’s hurting the same as you are, but that doesn’t really fix much. I wish I could think of something to say that would comfort you, but I suck at that kind of thing. Have the tea instead – it’s chamomile. And you can keep the mug._  
 _Let Bruce know when you’re done with the kettle – I heisted it from the Science Dept break room and he’ll be able to put it back._  
 _\- Me_

A purple candy heart was tucked into a small paper pocket under the message. The smeared pink words read out ‘Just Breathe.’ Bruce sat off to the side, reading one of his science journals.

He said nothing as Steve flipped the ‘on’ switch for the kettle, and continued to say nothing as Steve sat and drank his tea.

* * *

Oh god. Oh god, oh god, oh god. They were really loud. And so, _soooo_ angry. Darcy knew she shouldn’t be listening in on an argument, especially not one like this, but it wasn’t like she was eavesdropping. Jane needed Bruce for some Science!thing and where Bruce goes, so goeth his nation (aka Tony). So when Steve needed to talk to Tony, he had to come to Jane’s lab. And that would have been awesome – that would have been so, _soooo_ great – if it weren’t for the fact that they started arguing about Bucky.

And Darcy got it, you know? She knew that Bucky Barnes was Steve’s Person – through thick and thin, through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, through rain and snow and heat and gloom of night, it was Steve and Bucky. ‘Til the end of the line. They were each other’s Person. And when it came to your Person, you’d do anything to make sure they were safe.

(And if they were _more_ than just each other’s Person, if they were partners in every way beautiful, magical and deadly, then Darcy would back off. Not that she had much to back off _from_ at this point, and she’d probably drown her sorrows in a pint of Cherry Garcia regardless. But she’d doff her cap in Mozel Tov and move on.)

At the same time, though… Bucky Barnes wasn’t really Buck Barnes anymore, was he? He hadn’t been for an incredibly long time. If the dox’d files Natasha had released were right, he didn’t even know who Bucky Barnes _was_ these days. He’d been an assassin – worse, he’d been a mindless killing machine. Darcy couldn’t even imagine how terrible that must have been. And during all of that horribleness, one of his jobs had been to kill the Stark family – where he’d succeeded two out of three.

So Darcy got it. She might not be able to relate, but she understood. But now she had to sit and listen to it and holy shit was it painful.

Jane hovered over her shoulder, obviously as uncomfortable with the situation as Darcy was.

“I’m really not sure this is the time or place for this sort of… discussion,” she whispered.

Bruce gave a soft, sad chuckle from the other side of the desk and shook his head. “There is no time or place for this, Dr Foster. This is the kind of thing that happens when it happens. Like a natural disaster.”

Darcy chewed on her lips, fiddling with the light blue pen in her hands. She wanted to help – she wanted to get up and give Steve a hug and kosh both those stupid men on the head. But it wasn’t her place, especially since she wasn’t actually friends with either of them. She just knew them sort of and had a hard-core crush on one of them.

She paused. Well, actually… just because it would be weird and not her place to do it in person… that didn’t mean she couldn’t say anything at all… _right_?

“Hey, Bruce?” She waited until the gamma-ray’d biophysicist looked at her. “Do you think you could help me out with something?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "through thick and thin, through dangers untold and hardships unnumbered, through rain and snow and heat and gloom of night": respectfully from a common saying; The Labyrinth; Postman's Creed. Just so you know.


	11. Dream Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just realized most of these chapters have food in them. Which reminds me it's lunch time.

Bucky had stopped in Ohio, just outside of Columbus. That’s what the new report said. He was just outside of Columbus, Ohio, keeping eyes on his sister’s girl and her family. Rebecca Barnes White had passed away 1987, leaving behind her only surviving child, Darlene. Rebecca did have a son – James Joseph, called JJ by his friends – but he’d been killed in Vietnam. So now there was just Darlene and her three kids… that’s all that was left of Bucky’s family.

Steve sat in the conference room long after the debrief had ended and looked at the print outs and the accompanying photos. Bucky came from a smart and good-looking family, and it showed in his great nieces and nephew. Darlene’s youngest was in her second semester of college at Ohio State, going for a mechanical engineering degree. She was a bright girl and Steve knew Bucky must be so proud. If he remembered, anyway. It seemed a whole bunch of things hinged on 'if's when it came to Bucky. _If_ Bucky remembered his family and _if_ he felt the loss of them, felt the connection to them that he should. Then he’d know to be proud. Then, these people wouldn’t just be names on a page or strangers in pictures. Darlene and her husband Tom, their kids Megan, Adam and Susannah… these people would mean something to Bucky, but only if he remembered.

 _‘They mean something to me and they’re not even my family,’_ Steve though, running a hand through his hair as he sighed. A knock on the door brought Steve out of his thoughts.

“Hey man,” Sam leaned in. He knew what the meeting was about, but even if he didn’t the look in Steve’s eyes would’ve given him a solid clue. “It’s lunch time. There’s a middle eastern food truck a few blocks over,” Sam gestured over his shoulder. “Wanna take a walk, grab a bite?”

Steve sucked on his lower lip for a second, eyeing the report in front of him again, then nodded. “Yeah. Let me drop this at my office and get my coat.”

“Cool. I know Tony took y’all out for falafel, but I hear these guys have a beef and rice platter that’ll knock you out.”

It was a quick walk to Steve’s office, but when he got there, he was floored. His secret admirer had snuck in and left something again. A yellow candy heart declaring ‘Dream Team’ accompanied a simple picture frame. The photo inside nearly stopped Steve’s heart.

It was a candid shot, black and white and a little faded with age. Buck and Steve sat on a log in their combat uniforms, remnants of their MREs scattered at their feet. One of Bucky’s hands pushed Steve’s head down as the other held a letter up and away. Steve had both hands raised to fight him off, but they were laughing. Steve remembered when this was taken. He’d gotten a letter from Peggy back at base and Bucky decided to play keep-away with it, razzing him like he always did.

_“Lil’ Stevie Rogers got a letter from a girl!”_

_“Come on, Buck – give it back.”_

_“Where’d a punk like you learn to talk to dames, huh?”_

_“Sure as hell didn’t learn it from you, ya jerk.”_

Steve didn’t know how the girl had gotten her hands on this picture, but he was awfully glad she gave it to him. He set the frame down next to his Action Coulson figure and took a deep breath before turning away.

 _‘I’m going to find you, who ever you are,’_ Steve resolved as he grabbed his coat. _‘I’m going to figure out how to say thank you for what you’ve given me.’_

* * *

Darcy ripped through her closet, dragging all the boxes out and flinging their tops off.

“Come on, where are you,” she muttered as she upended a shoebox full of old family photos. She riffled through the ones of her and her siblings during their awkward pre-teen days and the ones where her parents looked like movie stars from the 70s and 80s. Box after box was emptied on her bedroom floor as she searched for what she knew  - what she _hoped_ \- was hidden there.

“What are you doing?”

Darcy yelped, clutching her chest when her heart threatened to stop at the voice suddenly coming from her bedroom doorway. Natasha stood there, looking at her placidly.

“How the hell-“ Darcy began once she had her breath back, but cut herself off. “No, that’s a stupid question. What are you doing here?”

Natasha shrugged and stepped forward, lowering herself elegantly to the floor. “What are you looking for?”

Darcy stared at the woman for a moment then gave a mental shrug. It probably didn’t matter why Natasha showed up – if the Black Widow was going to kill her, she’d be dead already. And Clint kept telling her how cool Natasha could be, so Darcy figured it wouldn’t hurt to be friendly. “My mom’s uncle had all these crazy stories from the 40s. He fought in WWII in Europe, saw some real crazy shit. He took a boatload of pictures – some of them were sent to the Smithsonian for different exhibits. But the rest of them… somehow, when he died I ended up with them.”

Uncle DD never married, but he had a few kids over the years. When he died, they came and sorted his stuff, but for whatever reason they couldn’t keep the personal mementos so they were all trusted to Darcy’s mom. When she’d been a kid, Darcy loved looking at all those black and white photos and took some of her favourites with her when she moved to New York.

Natasha looked at the floor and picked a picture out from the pile. Three men in uniform stood together. The two on the ends – a black man and an Asian – smiled widely with their arms slung across the shoulders of the one in the middle – a stoic man in a British Armed Forces uniform. On the back, in fading black ink, a scrawly spiked script read: _Gabe, Jim and the Great Stuffed Shirt, 1941._

“So what are you looking for specifically?” Natasha asked.

Darcy chewed on her lips a moment. “I’m… I’m pretty sure there’s a picture of Steve and his friend in here… somewhere. Maybe. I don't remember exactly, but I thought that if I could find it and it _was_ them… well, maybe he’d like a copy.”

Natasha nodded slowly and sifted through the pile again. “I will help you.”

Darcy blinked. “Uh… thanks, Natasha. That’s… that’s really nice.”

“You are good with Clint when he annoys me, and you will be good for Steve. He’ll like this gift from you.”

Darcy took a deep breath and grabbed another shoebox. “I sure hope so,” she muttered.


	12. Sweet Jams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So most of yesterday was spent doing music research and coming up with a playlist. It's long and wonderful and things I definitely think Darcy would pick for Steve. If you want to see it, let me know. I'm very proud of it.

After finding the picture of him and Bucky, Steve started finding reasons to scope out the Science floors. His secret admirer knew about his fight with Tony; seemed familiar with Bruce and the Science Break Room; and had a scientist deliver her card when she was sick – it all added up to the Science Department. So when he wasn’t doing anything, he wandered the offices and labs. Even when he had reports to read, he’d walk the halls as he did so, keeping both ears open for any talk of secret gifts or candy hearts. That’s how he over heard JARVIS talking with a young woman in the astrophysics offices.

“C’mon, J-man - you don’t mess with the iTunes. A girl’s music is sacred.” It was a slightly nasally, goofy type of voice – female, for sure – and her familiarity with the AI caught Steve’s attention.

“I merely wished to aid you, Ms Lewis. Putting together a playlist such as the one you are compiling for your… intended requires a knowledge of the man’s taste. Knowledge which I have.”

Now that was interesting. Steve drifted closer, a structural pillar hiding him from view as he heard the girl – this Ms Lewis – reply.

“The guy’s not my _intended_ anything, J. But thanks for the offer. I might take you up on it, but let me see how I do on my own first, okay?”

“As you wish, Ms Lewis.”

Steve leaned around the pillar to see if he could get a glimpse of the girl. She was alone in the office, which was convenient, but she was facing away from him. She had thick, dark hair, though. Steve thought it looked soft. Beside her computer monitor was an action figure in some kind of karate pose and wearing a business suit with a space helmet. Steve couldn’t be 100% certain, but the toy was about the same size as his Action Coulson.

It all came together the next day. Steve found a thumb drive and a green candy heart waiting on his desk. The thumb drive had musical notes drawn on with silver Sharpie and on the back his name was carefully printed. The candy heart said ‘Sweet Jams.’

“Hey JARVIS? What’s this?” he asked, tilting his head up a little as he fingered the drive.

“I do believe it is a universal serial bus, otherwise known as a USB drive, Captain.”

“Is it harmful? Have any viruses on it?” Because it seemed like everyone and their mother knew about Steve’s secret admirer these days and it would be great cover for some enemy if they wanted it. Steve didn’t want to think badly about this girl, but he had to be careful.

“While I do understand your concern given your previous interactions with Dr Zola, Captain, I can assure you there are no harmful codes stored on that device.”

“Good.” Now to see what he could get from JARVIS. “Do you know what’s on here?”

“Yes, Captain, but I’m afraid you’ll have to found what it is for yourself.”

Steve fiddled with the candy heart, thinking quickly. “Do you know who put this on my desk?”

“I do, Captain, but I’ve been requested to keep that information to myself.”

Bingo – confirmation of the secret admirer’s latest offering. Now for the next clue. “Does this have anything to do with a Ms Lewis?”

JARVIS, surprisingly, seemed to hesitate. “I’m sorry, Captain, but I believe that falls under the preview of information I was asked to keep confidential.”

Bingo again. “Thanks, JARVIS.” Steve inspected the flash drive for a moment, then uncapped it and plugged it in. “Lets see what you’ve got for me, Ms Lewis.”

The new folder popped up automatically – practically zero load time thanks to Stark tech – and contained document titled ‘READ ME’ and an additional folder. He clicked on the document first.

_Hey there._   
_So music is a hobby/specialty/time-consuming-god of mine and I figured if there’d be one thing you would 100% love, it would be a playlist. Because everyone loves playlists. They’re like the new ‘mixed tape,’ if you know what that is. I tried to pick songs you wouldn’t necessarily hear on the radio any more – ‘cause that’s boring if you can tune into any old station and hear the same 10 songs over and over – and I included some songs you might remember from the '40s. And 60 songs might seem like too much but they’re all awesome, I swear._   
_Anyway, there’s more where this came from if you’re interested. Enjoy!_   
_\- Me_

Below that was a listing of 60 songs, including the recording artist and the year each song was released spanning the last half-century. Some of them he knew, like Bing Crosby and The Andrew Sister’s singing _Pistol Packin’ Mama_ and Jimmy Dorsey's production of _Besame Mucho_. Others, like _September_ by Earth, Wind  & Fire and _Can’t You See_ by The Marshall Tucker Band were occasionally heard on the radio when Steve decided to listen to it. There were artist names he recognized, such as Nat King Cole, Frank Sinatra, Sue Thompson and Perry Como, but he was mostly unfamiliar with the songs his admirer picked for him. As for the more modern artists... Dynamite Hack? Blind Melon? Boyz II Men? None of those rang any bells.

So Steve opened the music file and hit play. As the familiar intro of _Pistol Packin’ Mama_ bounced from the speakers, he figured that if he liked everything else his secret admirer gave him, he’d probably like this too. If nothing else, it would provide some background music while he did some digging in the employee files.

* * *

“You are perilously close to being found out, Ms Lewis. Captain Rogers is an inquisitive man and has begun searching the Tower Employee Database, specifically the Science Department, for young women with the last name of Lewis. I believe he overheard our conversation the other day. I would suggest that if you don’t wish to be discovered, this next gift be your last.”

Darcy felt the blood drain from her head and nodded. “Okay. Thanks for the heads up, J.”

"My pleasure, Ms Lewis."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Bing and the Andrew Sisters recorded and released Pistol Packin' Mama in 1942.  
> Jimmy Dorsey and his Orchestra released Besame Mucho (Kiss Me Much) in 1944. Vocals were recorded by Bob Eberly and Kitty Kallen.  
> Technically, I think Steve would have been in ice by the time Besame Mucho came out. But I don't know how long he was on the USO tour and I'm not sure know how long he was with the Commandos. So I fudged a little.


	13. Do Good

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You think we're done, but really we're not. There's still two more chapters after this. This takes place the morning of Feb 13. Chapter 14 takes place the evening of Feb 14. And then there's an epilogue, 'cause I say so. 14 and the Epi are written and in the queue. I just haven't decided if I want to post them tonight or give them one last edit and post them tomorrow.
> 
> In other news, this chapter gave me heartburn. Not because it was bad or even angsty (it is a little angsty), but because it was so goshdarn hard to write. Also, I'll be publishing the playlist from chapter 12 in a separate thing, for those who asked.

The call came in during the early morning hours of February 13th. Bucky had made contact with the operatives watching him – as direct contact as he could make without actually speaking to them. He holed himself up in a snowed-in cabin in upstate New York and posted signs in the window. They were in Russian, but that didn’t matter much.

**Tell the man with the shield I’m ready.**   
**His team only.**   
**No others.**

Steve rushed from his apartment to the Tower, barely registering the time it took to don his uniform and grab his shield before he and the others were on the plane. It would be about an hour’s flight to the cabin with weather conditions being what they were and Steve wished he’d thought to grab his StarkPlayer from his Go Bag – he’d downloaded the playlist from his secret admirer and liked it a little bit more than he thought he would. Hindsight was 20/20.

He told himself he wasn’t nervous as he buckled his flight harness, keeping his head down so he wouldn’t have to make eye contact with anyone. This was Bucky – his brother, his best friend. And as much as Steve believed – _had_ to believe – that Bucky had the same heart under all that ice, the honest truth was… so much had happened to that smart mouthed lieutenant who went off to war in 1941. _Too_ much for him to be the same man ever again. Steve didn’t know what that meant – not for him and not for the future of his friend that he missed and loved so much.

A white square on the inside of his shield caught Steve’s eye. A little paper pocket with a pink heart drawn on it was taped to the curved metal just above his arm grip, and there looked like… yeah, that was a candy heart in there. Steve tugged off a glove and fished the candy out.

‘Do Good’

Steve paused, then had to swallow a few times as he fought back the unexpected emotions catching up to him. He took a deep breath and popped the candy into his mouth before pulling his glove back on.

 _‘Do good,’_ he thought, mulling over the phrase as wintergreen flavour burst in his mouth. _‘Yeah, I think I can do that.’_

By the time they touched down outside Bucky’s cabin, Steve was focused and sure. 

* * *

“Hey, hot lips.”

Darcy startled, jerking forward in her chair before swinging around. Tony Stark was in her office doorway, watching her fling little candies into the air and try to catch them in her mouth. Nice. Well, whatever – overnight machine monitoring was boring as hell. She had to entertain herself somehow.

“Hi?”

“We’ve got about ten minutes – grab a candy heart and lets go.”

“E-excuse me?” How the hell did he know about the candy hearts? And what was he talking about: ‘ten minutes?’

“We just got a call saying Steve’s long lost psycho is ready to play nice. We have about ten minutes ‘til Steve get here and suits up – enough time for you to leave him another thing or whatever.”

Darcy stood slowly. “You’re going to get Bucky?” she asked, feeling a little blindsided. “And you’re bringing him _here_?”

Tony blinked. “If you really wanna discuss this, we’re gonna have to walk and talk. I mentioned we’re on a time limit?”

“Right.” She turned to her desk and upended the box of candy hearts, sifting through them until she found a good one. ‘Stay Safe’? ‘Home Free’? ‘Come Home’? No – they all sucked. Then she flipped over a white one.

“Oh hallelujah,” she mumbled. She grabbed a piece of unlined paper, her pink sparkly gel pen, and the roll of masking tape. “Lay on, MacDuff.”

This wasn’t what she’d planned on leaving Steve for Valentine’s Day, but this was too good an opportunity to pass up. Plus, it would round things off nicely – 14 presents for Feb 14th.

“So explain this to me,” she demanded, side-eyeing the billionaire-genius-playboy-philanthropist.

“You like Steve; I’ve been an asshat to Steve. This is me making it up to him and proving to Pepper I'm not a walnut."

“Pepper Pots called you a walnut?" She shook her head, cutting Tony off before he could even start. "Don't answer that. I figured that out the whole 'making it up to Steve' thing on my own, but I mean…” Darcy frowned as Tony hit a button for the elevator. “How did you know I was the one leaving him things?”

Tony shot her a flat look, utterly unimpressed. “Really? You sneak around _my_ tower, get help from _my_ AI, and you think I don’t know about it?”

Darcy blinked and followed Tony into the elevator cage when the doors opened. “Yeah, I should have guessed you’d find out.”

“I accept payment in the form of cupcakes.” 

Darcy squinted up at him, watching his nose go up in the air like he was important or something. “I thought you were doing this a favour to Steve.”

“To _Steve_ ,” Tony emphasised. “You are _not_ Steve, unless something really weird is going on here. And I never did get to have one of those cannoli cupcakes you made.”


	14. Love My Team

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay guys. Just the Epilogue after this.

It was a short plane ride back to the Tower, but they sedated Bucky anyway. Neither Steve nor Bucky kicked up any fuss – there was no telling when the Winter Soldier would rear his ugly head. And with a small plane with Bruce on board… it was just smart to knock him out. Steve sat next to the gurney they had Bucky strapped to, gloves off and shield pressed against his knees. The paper pocket was still taped to the inside and Steve’s thumb ran over the heart his secret admirer had penned there.

“So,” Tony plopped down on Steve’s other side, helmet in his lap. “Pepper tells me I’ve been an emotional coconut.”

Steve blinked. “A what?”

Tony jerked a shoulder and cast his eyes around the cabin. “Well, she didn’t use that term exactly – classy girl, my Pep – but that’s the gist of the ripping she gave me. So to make up for it, I’m gonna tell you who your secret admirer is.”

“You know?” Tony hadn’t been around like Natasha or Clint had, so Steve was a little sceptical.

Tony just scoffed. “Really? You think I don’t know what goes on in my own building? You think my security team hasn’t been reporting to me for the past _month and a half_ on who’s been breaking into your office? I’ve known since that stupid bear she left you. I had JARV grant her access to the private elevator. I know how she got your home address. I have a copy of the playlist she made you – and let me tell you," a metal finger shot up under Steve's nose, "she missed out on a few classics so you ever want me to fill you in on what she skipped, you just say the word. So, I know who she is. And because Pepper tells me I’ve been a tropical fruit, I’m gonna help you out. Letting your boy ‘crazy’ over there regrow his brains is more of a science experiment on bread mold than a favour.”

Steve let the ‘experiment’ comment slide. Tony would be Tony and this was the way he handled the hard stuff. “You’re telling me my secret admirer’s identity… because _Pepper_ told you to?”

Tony flapped a metal hand, shaking his head. “No, she just told me I have the emotional intelligence of a coconut. Which, you know - she's not wrong. JARVIS suggested I spill the beans. By the time we get back to the Tower and your boy’s settled in medical, the girl should be packing up and leaving for the day. You could catch her on the way out, ask her for a coffee…” He trailed off with an eyebrow waggle and a shoulder wiggle, which looked sort of ridiculous in his Iron Man suit. Steve could hear Clint snort from the cockpit, followed by a soft expletive when Natasha punched him in the arm. No one else said anything, which Steve was pretty glad about.

He looked at the paper pocket lining the space above his arm guard and frowned, sighing a bit as his thumb played with the tape on the edges. “I kinda wanted to figure it out on my own.”

Tony huffed and rolled his eyes. “Fine. Think it over. But don’t think too long – it’s Valentine’s Day and I’ve got a feeling you won’t be getting too many more gifts.”

Later, once Bucky was secure in the medical centre and they’d all been debriefed, Steve went back to his office. He was happily dressed in fresh clothes and his hair was still a bit damp from the shower he’d taken. He was only a little surprised to see a new gift on his desk. A heavy silver picture frame sat a little away the photo of him and Bucky and Action Coulson, in front of his document organizer. The new offering had a red bow was tied around one of its corners and in one lower corner rested a candy heart reading ‘Love My Team.’

This picture wasn’t a candid necessarily. It was from a promotional photo shoot the team had done to support their charity project, Housing New York, for all those displaced from the alien invasion a few years ago. The whole team had been in uniform – even Bruce had been Hulk’d out. They’d ultimately gone with a different photo, but this had been one of the funny shots.

The Hulk was sitting cross-legged against a white backdrop, grinning like a child. Thor was held upside down by an ankle in one hand while Steve clung to a huge bicep on the other side. On Hulk’s knee, Clint sat upright and proper like a lady. Sam leaned on the other green leg and stared across at the archer like some moon-struck Romeo. Natasha and Tony posed on Hulk’s shoulders, each pretending to be ‘conqueror of the mountain.’ Natasha had Tony’s helmet on and Steve remembered the way she’d kicked Stark’s butt for the right to wear it.

It was a good shot of them, and it had actually been Steve’s favourite from the whole shoot. It hadn’t been released to the public, either. Steve took a deep breath and looked around his office.

He saw the little bear he’d gotten first, that he ended up tossing around and talking to when he had his office door closed and had to think something through. His foam bat was was slightly squashed from the way he used it like a stress ball.

His blue and brown stoneware mug needed to be washed. It still had dregs in it from his last cup of coffee.

His snow globe sat on one pile of papers, waiting for him to give it a shake. The blue galaxy stone sat on another, looking like so many stars.

Under his desk, he’d taped the sick cactus card and the collage his admirer made of his butt. He couldn’t make himself get rid of either of them.

The USB drive she gave him was at his house, but he’d downloaded the playlist to his office computer to listen to while he worked.

Steve looked at his Action Coulson, who (in Steve’s absence) had been repositioned to look a bit like a drunken frat boy: his ball cap was on backwards; one arm waving the pennant wildly as he seemed to fight for balance on one foot; the other slung around the picture of him and Bucky. And god, that picture was everything, wasn’t it? Most of his best memories could be summed up by that moment. Steve wondered what else, what other moments, she’d been able to get her hands on.

He thought of how she told him to Do Good – not be safe, not come home… just do good. Like she knew it was his duty, his job, to risk his life the way he did, and all she wanted was for him to do the best he could. In a way, his secret admirer seemed to understand, better than any old gal in Accounting might have.

Then he thought of all the women named Lewis he’d have to talk to in the Science Department, and how today was Valentine’s Day.

“Hey JARVIS?”

“Yes Captain?”

“Could you connect me to Tony please?”

“Right away, Captain.”

* * *

So Valentine’s Day officially sucked. With the horrible, _horrible_ abundance of flowers, Darcy had been sneezing all day. She was lucky they were prohibited in the lab, even if some of the pollen still found it’s way to her desk. _Elech_ – gross. And every was either showing their shit off or crying in the bathrooms ‘cause they didn’t get anything.

“Ain’t nobody got time for that,” Darcy groused to herself as she hitched her purse up higher on her shoulder. “Have a good one, Larry!” She tossed a salute to the night lobby guard and shouldered her way out into the cold night air. The air had a heavy, looming feeling. As she looked up to check the cloud cover, the first freezing drop of rain hit her forehead.

“Seriously?” she asked the sky, continuing to make her way across the Tower’s front courtyard. The raindrops started coming faster. “It’s bad enough today sucked as hard as it did, but you’re gonna rain on me too? I hate everything. I just want to go home, put my pjs on, and have some wine and popcorn. I might even watch the Hallmark channel for crappy chick flicks.”

She continued to grumble, stuffing her gloved hands into her pockets and hunching her shoulders against the cold. She wished she’d had her umbrella or a car or something to keep her from getting soaked. She’d have walking pneumonia by the time she got to the bus stop at this rate.

“Darcy Lewis?” a shout called out across the courtyard, stopping Darcy in her tracks. Footsteps jogged quickly towards her, and she turned. “You’re Darcy Lewis?”

Her brain stopped. Steve Rogers – THE Steve Rogers, who she’d been leaving secret gifts for since the beginning of January – stopped in front of her. He had an umbrella big enough to cover both of them and she was sort of happy about that, but _oh god_ this was Steve Rogers. She nodded, not having the brainpower to speak.

“You work in the Science Department?” She nodded again and sucked her bottom lip into her mouth. “You bake and like music and have an Action Coulson?”

She nodded one last time, this one a little bit jerkier, more hesitant. Steve held up a purple candy heart… the one she’d left him. “Why were you leaving me stuff?”

Darcy shrugged, uncomfortable. This was exactly why she didn’t want him to find out it was her – _this_ conversation. She never was able to come up with a satisfying answer that didn’t end up with her spilling her guts in front god and everybody. “Your office was boring and needed… things. Stuff. Whatever.”

Steve shook his head. “Darcy-“

“I like you, okay?” she burst out. Yeah, so gut-spilling was going to be the way this went, apparently. Thank goodness it was just the two of them out here. “I like you and I wanted to do something nice. I could’ve left you flowers, but they’re boring and stupid, and they make me sneeze. And they’re not something you really give a guy anyway, you know? So I got you candy hearts and… stuff.”

Darcy jerked her shoulders in some kind of aborted shrug as she watched him for a moment, the way his throat bobbed when he swallowed. Good lord, the man had a really awesome throat… and neck… and get a load of that jawline…

“You like me?” he asked, bringing her attention back to his face. His voice was a little strangled and Darcy nodded, assuming the worst. “Good.”

And without saying anything else, Steve Rogers – _Captain America_ – swooped in and kissed her.

He kissed _her_ – Darcy Lewis.

It was chaste compared to the other kisses she’d had before – closed mouth, no tongue – but his lips were soft and he smelled like mountains and he kissed her like… like he cared. Like she was important. Like he’d been waiting to kiss her for a long time. When he pulled back, Darcy’s eyes fluttered open (had she closed them?).

“You fogged my glasses,” she breathed. Then mentally slapped herself. “I mean… Hi.”

Steve smiled, and boy was it a great smile. “Hi. Want to get some coffee?”

“Y-yeah. There’s, um… a coffee and pie shop a few blocks from here. They're open late.”

“I could go for pie.”

“Awesome.”

“I’m counting this as our first date.”

“Nice to have that all up front,” Darcy mumbled as her cheeks heated, even though they were already red from the cold. “But that’s, uh… that’s really awesome. I’ll do that, too – you know, just so we’re on the same page. Wouldn’t want it to get weird.”

“No,” he chuckled and popped the candy heart into his mouth. “Don’t want to make it weird.”

_‘Happy Valentine’s Day indeed,’_ she thought to herself as he slipped his hand into hers. _‘Whoo boy.’_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> But wait! There's more >>


	15. One Year Later

Darcy almost skipped work. It was Valentine’s Day and that meant flowers every-freaking-where, which spelled out sneeze-fest in Darcyland. Totally not something she wanted to experience. Plus, her favourite sweater – the red one with a pug on it wearing a sweater with a pug on it – was dirty. She’d gotten chili on it the other day – Café 6 Chili. And Jane was off world with Thor so Darcy could work from home if she really wanted to… but (and this was a really nice but, a but totally worth getting out of bed for) Steve was coming home today.

He’d been on a month-long mission to Wakanda with Bucky, Natasha and Sam, but they were arriving back today. If they got in early enough, Steve was gonna take her to lunch. He couldn’t do that if she wasn’t at work, though. So Darcy put on her second favourite sweater – the blue one with Cap’s shield knitted on the front – and braved the flower pollen death of the main lobby and elevator. Her jaw dropped when she got to her desk.

Her Action Coulson stood on top of her keyboard with an over sized pink heart pasted to paper headband that had been slipped over his space helmet. In his hands, he held up a pink candy heart reading the same message as the thousand other candy hearts covering the rest of her desk:

I LOVE YOU

“Oh my god.”

“Didn’t want to make it weird,” came a voice behind her. Completely stunned, she spun around and looked at her boyfriend. Steve leaned against the office door, looking way too good for someone in a long-sleeved Henley and jeans.

“Steve?” Darcy dropped her coat and purse, barely registering the pleasure sparking in his blue eyes when he saw her sweater. Darcy’s favourite might’ve been the pug one, but this one was Steve’s. “When did you get here? You’re early.”

Steve just shrugged and grabbed her sleeves, pulling her close and bending down. “Happy Valentine’s Day, Darcy.”

Then he kissed her. And geez, did she kiss him back.

And even with the flowers of death in the lobby and main office floors, it was sort of a really awesome Valentine’s Day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> FIRST and foremost, I want to thank pinkpandoracorn for the wonderful prompt. I literally would not have written this fic if it wasn't for her. This - from first to last - is her Valentine's Day Gift, late as it is. You should all tell her Happy Valentine's Day even though it's March now. She's lovely.  
> Secondly, I want to give big shout outs to thescottishwrite, who was my beta-to-the-max and all around cheerleader. She was very good to put up with my whining lazy butt. Also to my dove, neverending-shenanigans, who inspires me in ways I don't think she knows.  
> Last but not least, thank you - THANK YOU - to everyone who has commented/kudo'd this work. I wasn't expecting this to be as popular as it was, and your feedback and support helped buoy me through the end of it. Y'all are awesome.


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